


if you tell

by orphan_account



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Author, Coping, Death Threats, F/M, Writer, actual people, coping with writing, friend, it's just me - Freeform, just a weird thing, nothing to do with undertale, personal, sorry for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 18:38:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10973070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: in which the writer copes with mental disibility





	if you tell

i.

you’re changing, when he comes.  
you have your shirt over your head and your shorts folded on the head of your bed, and he comes right in.  
cole, his name is. he comes and you don’t really realize it at first, and your fingers are moving to unclasp your bra when his hands touch you. it’s the first touch of many.  
you go stiff and his fingers move right over to yours, where they froze struggling to undo the two little rings holding the taught fabric together. “keep going,” he says, and god you don’t like it because he still has that weird smiling-joking tune to his voice.  
you don’t.  
that’s your first mistake because you hear a little clink (your second mistake is not breaking away from him and instead staying frozen like a goddamn idiot) and then there’s a cool blade against your neck. you grew up around knives but you’re terrified of them and he knows it why is he doing this  
“come on, syd.” god stop talking in that voice.  
you very, very slowly slip the hooks out of the rings, and then you drop your bra and swallow very softly, so you feel the knife press into your skin a tiny bit more.  
(see, at this point you’re still hoping a bit that it’s all a joke; he would do that probably? and sure it would be embarrassing and humiliating and you’d still be hurt and confused but at least nothing would come next. you’re just too hopeful though.)  
the knife eases and there’s a little warning of hesitation before he slides it shut, then it’s back in his pocket you assume.  
(and here you should have ran too but you can’t get yourself to move. you’re so weak.)  
your eyes shut when he palms your breasts with interest, then slips one hand down. “you know,” he says and he sounds so comically smug, “you always did look fat. but you don’t really look as bad without clothes.”  
that’s like a slap to the face, especially when his fingers pass right over that goddamn fat roll and squeeze and fuck you hate yourself because you still let out this stupid fucking squeak because you’re ticklish.  
his fingers find their way down and palm your crotch. you’re so sensitive and you hate it. because you sort of gasp and he releases this slow, restrained breath.  
“man, you’re more of a whore than i thought you were.”

ii.

see cole comes to babysit with you.  
your dad has a close friend and cole is her son, and you know him well as a kid who hunts and shoots guns and rides around on dirt bikes and four-wheelers. he’s racist and sexist and homophobic sure, but you never thought he was that bad. sure he sometimes made those remarks you don’t like (once he said “there’s a difference between black people and niggers” and your dad agreed what the fuck) but all in all he seemed like he at least had your back, right?  
so then your little cousins are staying and you babysit them and you don’t really expect much.  
(at one point he told jake, the three-year-old, “boys don’t cry.” you told him not to say that. he asked why not. you didn't answer.)  
you had just gone up after the two kids changed and they were downsyairs amd you were in your room and all you want to do is change.

iii.

he covers your mouth when he starts rubbing directly against your sex you keep making these sort of half-sob whimpering sounds and asking him to stop. and then your knees go weak because you’re wet (“you’re actually enjoying this. god you’re so weird”) and then he pushes you against your own bed.  
the little amount of coverage you still have is removed and you stare, and your hands shake. you grip the bedding. you don’t look at him.  
“ugh,” he says with a little disgust and his fingers prod at the three, four rolls of fat that pool when you sit down. you swallow, thick.  
then his pants drop.  
you don’t want that, you don’t, it’s so weird you don’t want that inside you. but you spread your legs when you’re told “spread ‘em” and then it’s right against you, sliding along the slick labia covering your virginity.  
“please,” you say and it’s a little broken. if you’re honest the only thing you’ve been able to fit inside yourself is a single sharpie which was just weird. “that’s going to hurt. please just stop now.”  
but you don’t put up a fight when the weeping head pushes right against you, and inside.

iv.

“i’m sorry.”  
that’s what you say after, with tears running down your face,  
“i’m so sorry for whatever i did.”  
“shut up. you didn’t do anything.”

v.

“if you tell anyone i’ll kill you.”  
“okay”  
“i’m serious.”  
“i know.”

vi.

it’s a month or so after and into the summer and you figure out that your period is very late.  
you won’t tell anyone.  
you tell your dad you started two days ago.  
he says “okay”  
everything is normal.

**Author's Note:**

> this has never happened to me. i am paranoid. i am scared. but i'm okay, if anybody wonders haha.  
> sorry if this seems attention seeking or fucked up. i already hate my mind, i just like sharing my writing. sorry. tags are there for a reason though  
> also i wrote this at like midnight.


End file.
